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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908840">A Floral Courtship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin'>codewordpumpkin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Blacklist (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Red likes to give Lizzie flowers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Floral Courtship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm writing this in lieu of an essay due today. I hope you enjoy my efforts of procrastination.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth woke to the sound of a muffled curse.</p>
<p>Squinting, she poked her head out from under the covers, quickly finding the source of the noise peeling a damp sock—courtesy of the dog now lapping at her cheek—off his foot and hurling it by the laundry bin.</p>
<p>“Tom?” she croaked, not trying particularly hard to conceal her amusement.</p>
<p>“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said over his shoulder. “Sorry to wake you, but I have a staff meeting in about twenty minutes and I just stepped in Hudson’s pee.”</p>
<p>Suddenly wide awake, she shot up to a sitting position. “What time is it?” she asked, her phone already in hand.</p>
<p>“Relax, you’re not late—but I’m going to be if I don’t head out right now.”</p>
<p>Appearing before her fully dressed, he bent over to kiss her forehead, murmuring into her skin, “I made breakfast. Sorry I have to rush out like this.”</p>
<p>“That’s okay,” she smiled, meaning it, “now go! I’ll call you later to tell you if I hate my new boss.”</p>
<p>Wishing her a good first day at work, he was out of the house before she even stepped out of bed.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When she finally made it down to the kitchen, she gasped in delighted surprise. It wasn’t the neatly stacked pancakes that had caught her off guard—unfortunately, she’d never had the heart to tell Tom she hated the damn things—but rather the full bouquet of delicate, purple flowers sitting in the middle of the island.</p>
<p>There was a small note attached to it, written in a red script that she didn’t recognize. Assuming Tom had gotten the florist to write it, she read it swiftly, her grin growing wider with each word:</p>
<p>
  <em>Congratulations on your new job, Lizzie. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re going to be famous. </em>
</p>
<p>Ignoring the pancakes, she brought the violet bunch to her nose and inhaled deeply, sensing a good day was awaiting her.</p>
<p>Until the sounds of a chopper was followed by a harsh banging on her door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The flowers are anemones—they’re said to mean “anticipation” ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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